


That's how I say happy birthday

by Codango



Series: Sitting in the street [8]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alcohol, Crying, Drunken Kissing, First Dates, Flirting, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Nervousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto stared into his tiny closet. This is not a date. Good heavens, this isn’t a date, is it? “Ugh.” He gnawed at a knuckle. It was completely a date — he was buying his stupidly attractive ex-something-or-other birthday dinner, for crying out loud — he was buying it. So it was kind of Makoto’s date. Dammit, Sousuke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's how I say happy birthday

**Author's Note:**

> So this kind of borrows from two prompts for Day 5 of SouMako week: the birthday prompt (day 4) and the confession prompt (day 5). Have both! Enjoy :)

Makoto wasn’t the type to make mistakes because he was excited. Not excited. Distracted. He could admit to being distracted.

All. Fucking. Week.

Learning the ropes at his new fire station meant he didn’t have time to lose focus at work. But as soon as he was off the clock, he caught himself doing the most… absent-minded things.

Falling asleep in that flannel shirt he wore to coffee. That one didn’t worry him _too_ much.

Searching online for a bathroom rug and finding himself reading Top Local Restaurants lists. That was Monday.

Wednesday, Makoto was horrified to realize he’d been idly wondering if Sousuke preferred beer or sake. For twenty minutes. While staring at a wall.

Thursday was the start of his 48 hours off, which meant his brain was already lightly fried from his 24-hour shift. _Fuck._ And tonight… Sousuke’s birthday. Dinner at a local place — not too new, not too old, good reviews. Not too expensive but not exactly cheap either.

Makoto stared into his tiny closet. _This is not a date. Good heavens, this isn’t a date, is it?_ “Ugh.” He gnawed at a knuckle. It was completely a date — he was buying his stupidly attractive ex- _something-or-other_ birthday dinner, for crying out loud — _he_ was buying it. So it was kind of _Makoto’s_ date. _Dammit, Sousuke._

_Bzz. Bzz. Bzz._

He grabbed his phone off the dresser without looking at it. “Tachibana speaking.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You on call or something?”

Makoto caught his breath. Sousuke’s voice sounded deeper and rougher on the phone.

“Habit. What do you want?”

“Nice. Did you forget you’re buying me dinner for my birthday tonight?”

 _No. No, in fact I have so_ not _forgotten that it seems I don’t have room for thinking of much else._ “Oh, is that tonight?”

“Asshole. So what do you want me to wear?”

Makoto turned with renewed anxiety to his closet. He’d never been what you’d call a clothes horse. _Should have asked Rin to go shopping with me._ Right. Because that wouldn’t have led to any questions at all. And then Haru would have got involved. _Hm. Wonder how he and Sousuke are these days?_ Rin and Sousuke were partners at the police station, so presumably… things were fine? But Haru had never mentioned the man, and they hadn’t ever really gotten along…

Sousuke breathed out an exasperated sigh. “Just give me a hint what the place is like, will you? I can go from there.”

“Uhh. Casual.” Makoto eyed multiple variations of flannel shirts. “Definitely casual.”

“Cozy place, huh?”

The anxiety built. _Oh god. We haven’t been on a date in five fucking years. I have no idea what he likes anymore. What if he hates it?_ Makoto swallowed. “Show up. We’ll find out together. How fun.” Makoto gave him the address and babbled something about needing to feed the cat. For the next four hours.

Sousuke’s laughter bounced around in his brain for the rest of the afternoon.

When Makoto walked up to the tiny restaurant, it was raining. Because, of course it was. Fucking sunny as Hawaii all day long, and gray skies come up out of nowhere on his walk.

And there was Sousuke, leaning against the building. Leather jacket, olive green shirt, black canvas pants that were just the right amount of snug. At the sound of Makoto’s approach, Sousuke looked up underneath drooping wet bangs.

Makoto felt his pulse accelerate and made a beeline for the door. “Hope you didn’t wait long — let’s get out of the rain already…”

“Makoto.” Sousuke pushed himself away from the wall. “You haven’t said happy birthday yet. Come here.”

“What… _what do you mean ‘come here?’_ ”

“Just stand there.” Sousuke pointed to the patch of cement in front of him.

Makoto felt heat high on his cheekbones. But he moved. _Dammit,_ he moved.

“Now.” Sousuke straightened to his full height, and Makoto wanted to kill him. _He_ knows _I liked how tall he is._ “Tell me happy birthday.”

 _Be. An. Adult. Makoto._ He put on his best smile and, looking up the fraction that he had to, said, “Happy birthday…” The greeting died in his throat when he saw those blue-green eyes looking down at him without a hint of smile. They were serious. Mature. And… and beautiful. “... Sousuke,” Makoto finished with a whisper. And for the second time in his life, Tachibana Makoto kissed Yamazaki Sousuke for the first time.

Makoto dimly registered Sousuke’s sharp intake of breath — _how could he not have been expecting this?_ — but both men kept their hands in their pockets as they slowly recalled how their lips felt together. Sousuke smelled a bit different. A new cologne perhaps, something very faint and smoky. And he moved his mouth over Makoto’s in a way that was more… careful than the aggressive boy in Makoto’s memory.

But Makoto’s brain was nonetheless feeling a slow burn overtake it, something he hadn’t felt in what seemed a very, very long time.

Sousuke lifted his head, his mouth open just barely, his eyes slightly out of focus. “Really. I swear all I wanted was a ‘happy birthday.’”

“Th-that’s how I say happy birthday.” Makoto turned and headed for the door. He was sure if he stepped back into the drizzly weather, the rain would sizzle on his face. “Dinner?”

“You, ah, you still want dinner?”

Makoto shot the dark-haired man a look. “Planning on getting something _else_ for your birthday?” he asked flatly.

Sousuke wiped a hand over his mouth. His grin was probably illegal in Japan.

Dinner was a distracting affair. Sousuke insisted on ordering a bottle of sake to share, and Makoto never did have a head for alcohol. As they chatted about work and Rin and Haru and how they both wished they swam more and where do _you_ work out these days, Makoto felt himself lulled into a comforting warmth.

The restaurant had intimately low lighting. The sake was quite good.  And dammitall if Sousuke’s shoulders weren’t backlit by fucking _candles_ all throughout dinner.

Makoto had rested his chin in his hand and was smiling inanely as Sousuke told a joke at Rin’s expense when he felt it. His eyes went wide as he registered the warmth of someone else’s leg pressed against his.

Sousuke met his gaze evenly. “Well, we’re both tall. There’s no helping it,” he said calmly.

Makoto stared at him. His vision blurred, and fat tears were rolling down his cheeks before he had any idea what was going on.

“What the —” Sousuke took his leg away instantly. “I’m sorry! Makoto, I’m sorry…”

Makoto scrubbed at his eyes with his hands, horrified. “I don’t know! I don’t know, that’s not… I wasn’t crying, I swear! I just…” Tears were running in streams down his cheeks, and he ( _dear god are you kidding me_ ) started sniffling. “It… it has to be the sake, right?”

“Does it?” Sousuke asked, sounding a bit panicked. “Do you… normally cry when you drink?”

“NO.” Makoto wished he sounded less like an embarrassed five-year-old. “Well, I mean, I don’t normally _drink_ , so…”

“Oh. Fuck.” Sousuke peered outside their booth and flagged a nearby server. “Are you allergic? I never knew that. I’ll take you home…”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Makoto wiped an eye with his (yes, flannel) sleeve. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of that.” Sousuke handed the server a card, not even bothering to look at the bill. “As soon as you can, please.”

“What… what are you doing?” Makoto asked, sniffling. “I have to buy your dinner.”

Sousuke ran a hand through his hair. A casual, _sober_ observer might have said he looked flustered. “Makoto, you’re drunk.” He laughed incredulously. “I got you drunk. Fuck. There’s no way I’m letting you buy me dinner.”

“I’m not drunk,” Makoto protested, perhaps a bit too loudly, but Sousuke wasn’t paying _attention_ , dammit. He let Sousuke lead him out the door of the restaurant by the arm, but only because he really liked the way the young police officer’s fingers curled around his bicep.

“Makoto, sober people do not burst into tears when their date plays footsie with them.” Sousuke put an arm around his shoulder. _Probably thinks he’s keeping me upright._ But Makoto didn’t shake him off.

“Yeah, let’s explore that, shall we?” Makoto tugged him in the direction of his apartment. “ _You_ , Yamazaki-san, were admittedly attempting to play footsie with me. Someone you don’t even like.”

Sousuke looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You are definitely hammered.”

“Not. Don’t change the subject. You never wanted to date me in the first place.” Makoto was half wishing he could stop his mouth, but these were things he’d wondered about for a long time. So fuck it.

“You’re hammered, and your memory sucks. I asked _you_ out to begin with.”

“But.” Makoto felt his eyes welling up again. _Shit._ “You didn’t want to be my boyfriend.” _Oh god, that sounds pitiful even to me._

“I… augh.” Sousuke squeezed Makoto’s shoulder. “All right, one, we were stupid kids; two, you never talked to me about it; three, we were stupid kids; four you ran off _angry_ at me, which I’d never seen before thank you very much; and — where was I — five, we were _very_ stupid kids.”

“We weren’t that stupid,” Makoto mumbled.

“Oh? You got a better reason why we managed to go five years without each other until you waltzed through a door last week?”

Makoto closed his eyes, let himself snuggle under Sousuke’s arm a bit more. It felt nice, dammit. “I’ve really hated being without you,” he whispered.

Sousuke stopped in the darkened street. Makoto felt his ribs heave with a deep sigh. “Makoto,” he whispered roughly. “Why do you say these things when I can’t kiss you.”

Makoto twisted in his one-armed hug. “Why can’t you?” he asked, leaning against the taller man’s chest. _Subtle, Makoto. Don’t care_.

Sousuke looked down at him.

 _So much emotion in those eyes,_ Makoto thought, a bit awe-struck. He gasped softly as Sousuke wrapped both of his long arms around Makoto’s back. Strong hands rubbed up and down the flannel, and Makoto closed his eyes, delirious. Sousuke buried his face in the crook of Makoto’s neck.

“Because I want you to remember when I tell you… how very much… how much I still love you.” Sousuke’s voice was muffled, and low as it was, it cracked around the edges.

Makoto froze in his arms. “Then.” He pulled back, weighing his words. “Then you… need to be there in the morning to see if I do.” He took Sousuke’s face in both hands and pulled his head down for the softest kiss. He let his tongue just barely taste the sake flavoring the corners of Sousuke’s mouth. “Don’t you?”

Sousuke managed to stay still for a full second or two. Then, capturing Makoto’s wrists in his hands, he covered Makoto’s lips with a growl.

Makoto let his mouth fall open, loving how tightly Sousuke held him. Sousuke’s lips slid over his, then peppered his face with kisses, on his eyelids, his brows, his nose, his cheekbones, his chin. His… his neck… Makoto whimpered a bit, raised his shoulder up into the sensation — _damn, that’s fuckin’_ sensitive — and then Sousuke let go of his wrists to grab his shirt collar.

Makoto felt Sousuke turn the fabric aside, breathe heavily on his collarbone. His knees buckled — _actually buckled, are you kidding me right now_ — when Sousuke licked the velvety skin below his neck.

“Ha.” Sousuke laughed, his breaths coming quick. “You all right? Makoto? Too much?”

“Hnh.” Makoto tried again, this time smoothing his hands underneath that ridiculously sexy leather jacket. He let them settle on Sousuke’s belt. “Too much. And…” he tugged the belt closer to him. “I want all of it.”

Sousuke jerked back to stare into Makoto’s eyes. “I… whoa. All right?”

It was Makoto’s turn to grab Sousuke’s wrist. “One more block.” He grinned over his shoulder and had the delicious pleasure of seeing Sousuke turn a dusky shade of pink. “You’re coming with me, officer.”

**Author's Note:**

> [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> [Marcella Christie](http://marcellachristie.com/) for my alter ego


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